


A Ficlet Collection

by Helena_Hathaway



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 13,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9355529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helena_Hathaway/pseuds/Helena_Hathaway
Summary: A collection of ficlets based on prompts. Major fluff warning.





	1. Tangles of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for writing prompts on my [tumblr](http://helenamayhathaway.tumblr.com) and these are the results of those prompts!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Red string of fate prompt?

Gerard sighs contentedly as the waitress puts the coffee down in front of him, murmuring a polite “thanks,” and then grabbing a couple packets of Splenda, ripping the top off and pouring them into his mug. Ray, opposite him, follows a similar routine with the small little containers of cream that reside in the bowl on the table.

Ray and Gerard sit and talk for a little while, about work, comics, and TV shows. Gerard’s in a sort of neutral mood, not entirely happy to be awake, but not entirely sad about it either. He starts to warm up a little, though, as he drinks his coffee, becoming more and more relaxed and personable with every sip of coffee he drinks. He’s not much of a people person until his morning coffee.

He holds his pinky out as he drinks his coffee, not because he has any pretense of being fancy, but because he’s so accustomed to doing so. The thin red thread tied around his pinky finger seems ever more prominent when he holds his pinky out, and it’s a familiar and oddly soothing thing. It comforts him, and he smiles as he looks at it, without even knowing he’s doing so.

He can’t help but to think of the person on the other end of that string, not knowing who or where they are, but their mere existence calms Gerard. Someday he’ll meet them. Someday he’ll see their face, and they’ll see his, and everything will become a wash of clarity.

That’s how his parents described meeting each other. Nothing made sense, everything was so uncertain, life, their jobs, where they lived. And then they met, and everything started to fall into place. Mikey says as much, having been lucky enough to meet his soulmate in high school. 

Neither Gerard nor Ray have the same fortune. Gerard’s pushing the latter half of his twenties, and he hasn’t even an inkling of when he’ll meet this person. He’s got some ideas about them though.

Gerard imagines a boy, though a girl isn’t entirely ruled out. He imagines a boy, an artist, or a musician, or an actor. Something creative, he can’t imagine anyone who works in a cubicle being his soulmate. It wouldn’t make any sense. 

Gerard is lost in thought thinking about them, and Ray can sense this, but he doesn’t mind. He’s been known to disengage as well. 

The door to the diner opens a few times behind him, and Gerard feels the cold winter air outside on his back every time it does so. It’s not a pleasant feeling, but it makes him appreciate the warmth of the inside ever more, which he supposes is a good thing. 

Gerard’s just eager to get his food, as he can practically hear his stomach grumbling. He and Ray go out for breakfast every Sunday, without fail. It’s their own little way of retaining some amount of normality, some amount of a routine. 

About ten minutes later, their waitress, a kind older woman, sets two plates of food down on the table before them, and Gerard’s face lights up instinctually. He gives the woman another rushed “thanks” because his mother raised him right, and then he eagerly starts to dig in. 

He unwraps his silverware, and stabs a sausage with a fork, while Ray tells him a story about something that happened at work involving a broken printer.

Gerard hears the sound of something clattering to the floor, and his eyes dart in the direction of the interruption, where he sees that a man in a seat across the diner had dropped his fork on the ground, causing the small commotion. The man’s back is facing him, but he sees a coffee and a newspaper in front of the man.

Unperturbed, Gerard goes back to the meal in front of him, grabbing the pepper shaker and sprinkling a small amount on his hash browns. The man who had dropped his fork makes a strange sound, and Gerard can’t help but to look over again, to see the man looking down at his finger, with confusion on his face. Gerard rolls his eyes, the man probably just got his thread tangled on something and someone is tugging on it. It happens to Gerard all the time.

Gerard is very precarious with his thread, he’s always getting it stuck on things, he just isn’t attentive enough to prevent it. He’s careful other people’s threads though, not wanting to be the cause of someone else’s misfortune, but he is not so careful when it comes to his own. 

The thread is uncuttable, literally, you could get an electric saw and the thread would still remain intact. The length of it is flexible, as well, how long it is you can’t possibly know unless you see the other end of it. Sometimes it seems strained, not as flexible as other times when it seems to be incredibly placid. 

Gerard looks at his own thread, not quite sure where it’s going as it falls to the ground near their table and then gets intertwined with Ray’s so he can’t tell which is which. 

Then, Gerard has a weird tugging feeling on his finger, that practically pulls his hand off the table, nearly making him fall off the seat itself. Ray looks across the table at him, with surprise, and Gerard makes a face.

“It must have just gotten tangled,” Gerard says sheepishly, pulling himself back fully onto the seat, and trying to shake off the interruption.

At around the same time, the man sitting across the diner says, “Motherfucker!” Gerard sees that he’s once again had his finger tugged on, practically pulling him out of his own seat, much the same as Gerard had experienced.

For a few minutes longer, there’s nothing, not the slightest twitch or anything, and then Gerard feels tugging again. He groans, because he knows he’s going to have to retrace his steps once they finish eating so that he can untangle his thread from wherever it got stuck, but he wants to enjoy his damn meal first.

Gerard picks up his fork, only to have his hand pulled forcefully again, making the fork fall and clatter down onto the plate. Everyone in the diner turns to stare at the sudden noise, as he blushes slightly, feeling ashamed of the interruption. It’s always the worst when other people can tell you’re having thread troubles.

He decides instead to use his other hand, picking his fork up with his left hand, which is far more difficult than he had imagined.

“You okay over there?” Ray asks, looking at him with a cocked eyebrow as he watches Gerard struggle to get egg onto his fork.

“It’s just, ugh, it’s usually not so bad,” Gerard says.

“I got mine caught in a revolving door once,” Ray shrugs, “I spent the whole day just being, like constantly pulled to the ground. Not a fun experience.”

“Ugh, yeah, probably something like that happened to me,” Gerard says, nodding.

“Sorry, dude,” Ray says, “I’ll help you retrace your steps when we finish eating.”

“Alright,” Gerard nods, and he goes back to very poorly picking food up with his left hand. He’s almost tempted to switch his hands again when another, extremely strong tug pulls his hand out of the booth, nearly causing him to hit the waitress as she walks by.

“Oh my god,” Gerard says, breath catching in his throat, but a sigh of relief sweeps over him when he doesn’t actually hit the tray out of her hand. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, love,” she says, “No harm done.” She continues walking and then stops in front of the guy who has also been having trouble with his thread, setting a plate of food down in front of him. Gerard doesn’t envy the man for having to deal with the same issues Gerard does. 

Gerard catches a glimpse of the guy’s face when the waitress hands him his food, which he hadn’t seen much of given that his back had been turned. He’s about Gerard’s age, long, scraggly black hair all over, with a few piercings, which suit him. Gerard has pictured a similar looking person to be on the end of his own thread. Gerard doesn’t think much more of him, however, when he goes back to eating.

For about twenty minutes, neither Gerard nor the man across the diner have any worries, as they’ve both settled for using their left hands to eat their food, which means that any tugs will at least prevent their silverware from clanging to the ground. Oddly enough, both of their strings seem to stop getting tugged in that short window of time, but Gerard doesn’t dare switch hands again, for fear that it’ll happen right when he gets his other hand on his fork.

Gerard and Ray finish eating, and call for the check. It’s Gerard’s turn to buy, and he hands the waitress the bill back before she even leaves the table. He’s extremely eager to get his thread untangled.

A few minutes later, once Gerard is given his receipt, the two of them get ready to make their way out of the diner. Gerard grabs his things, careful on his right hand in case of disturbances. He and Ray head for the door, when Gerard feels himself all too suddenly jerked backwards, and he nearly falls to the floor, because it’s the strongest tug yet. He doesn’t notice it, but the man across the diner nearly falls out of his seat at almost the exact same time.

Gerard, a little winded, looks at Ray, exasperated, as he collects himself, even brushes himself off for some reason. He calms his breathing, which had practically stopped from the sudden movement, and then he makes to start walking towards the door when it happens again. He’s expecting it more this time, so it doesn’t catch him off guard to the same extent, but he looks very annoyed at this point.

“It’s probably caught on something in here,” Ray says, and Gerard nods. He walks backward, tries to see where the snag in the thread is, because he probably won’t even be able to leave the diner until he figures out where it is.

Gerard follows the thread, back to where they’d been sitting, and then further into the diner. He looks up, sees himself only a few steps away from the man who’d also been having trouble.

Then, Gerard looks back at his thread, and tries to look ahead of him to see where it goes next, and that’s when he notices how short it is. Gerard looks at how very straight it is, which is unusual, and then he follows the thread which somehow seems to be getting even shorter, and then he stops right in front of the booth where the black-haired man is sitting. Gerard looks down, from his own finger, to the pinky of the man in front of him, and then back.

The man, looks up, eyebrows drawn together, and he says, “um, can I help you?”

Gerard just holds his pinky up, his eyes still darting from his finger to the other mans. The man, looking confused, follows Gerard’s eyes, and then he notices the same thing that Gerard had noticed not a moment ago.

The man lifts his own pinky up, and then his hand gets closer to Gerard’s until they’re literally only an inch apart.

The red thread on Gerard’s finger lies slackly between the two, only about three inches long now. Gerard, for the first time in his entire life, sees the end of the string, which is tied around the pinky finger of this other man.

There’s a feeling of elation, of wonderment, of pure surprise. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, what to believe. This is just so unexpected. He’s been waiting for this moment his entire life, but he never considered that it would ever actually happen.

The two men, after staring at their fingers for so long, finally look up, and then a smile breaks out on the other man’s face, which Gerard can’t help but to match.

“I’m Frank,” the man says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might have noticed, I marked this as ongoing which means that you can submit prompts to either my [tumblr](http://helenamayhathaway.tumblr.com) or as a comment on this. I make no guarantees that I'll write it, but if it interests me, I might, so feel free to leave multiple prompts!


	2. Nilla Wafer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Are you fucking kidding me?"
> 
> Prompt from [allkindsofplatinumandpercocet](http://allkindsofplatinumandpercocet.tumblr.com/)!

“Gerard… don’t be mad,” Frank says, which is the single worst thing that you can ever start a sentence with and it immediately sends Gerard’s head going in every which direction. What the hell could Frank have done this time? What is Gerard now going to have to try not to get pissed about.

“Frank, I promise you no such thing,” Gerard replies.

“Uh, are you sure?” he asks, looking concerned, and he gets this vaguely scared look on his face, because he knows that Gerard’s probably going to be pissed at him, and it’ll be his fault. He just really hopes Gerard doesn’t make him sleep on the couch like he did that time that Frank almost burned the house down. But in his defense, he thought that the fajitas would be fine for five minutes while he went to get the mail.

“Yes,” Gerard says, “you’re not going to talk me out of anything if you did something dumb.”

“Well… ‘dumb’ is a strong word,” Frank says.

“Just cut to the chase, Frank, what did you do?”

“I, uh, well,” Frank says, and he looks nervous, but he can’t postpone the inevitable. Frank walks over to the door that he’d just come through, and opens it, all the while leaving Gerard sitting on the couch looking wary.

Frank disappears behind the door for a moment, and Gerard thinks he might have just run away in order to not face Gerard. But, a second or two later, he comes back holding something very small and very furry in his hands.

“Frank,” Gerard exasperates, upon realizing what Frank’s done. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“She was all alone!” Frank says, holding the small, barely a week old, Pomeranian in his arms like he would hold a baby. “Someone left her in a box by the grocery store, and she called out to me. She called out to me, I swear it! She was going ‘Fwankie. Fwankie, pwease!’”

“Frank, we’ve got too many dogs already!” Gerard says, “it’s just out of the question.”

“But look at her!” Frank says, and he holds the puppy out so that Gerard can see her soft little face. She’s the color of coffee with creamer in it, and she’s so fluffy that you could mistake her for an overlarge pompom.

“Frank,” Gerard says sternly.

“Pwease Geward,” Frank says, lifting the puppy up in front of his face and making a small voice meant to be the puppy’s, while the puppy in his hands sticks out her little tongue.

“No, Frank. The answer is no!”

“Just hold her!” Frank says, and before Gerard can refuse, he plops the puppy right onto Gerard’s lap, much to his dismay, but only for a second.

Gerard, surprised the intrusion, wants to be angry and set the dog on the floor while he yells at Frank, but then she starts nibbling on Gerard’s sleeve and the battle is already fucking lost.

“I hate you so fucking much,” Gerard says to Frank indirectly as he pets the soft of her back, and that’s when Frank knows he’s got Gerard.

Frank’s face lights up, so far beyond ‘like a Christmas tree’ that it’s an insult to say it. Frank’s face lights up like the fucking sun. He kneels down beside the couch where the puppy rests on Gerard’s lap just being her cute fucking self.

“I’m going to name you Nilla Wafer, and we’re going to be best friends,” Frank starts cooing, while Gerard just looks on with sheer disbelief at either his own situation or how much he just fucking loves this stupid man. He doesn’t even know whose face is harder to say no to, Nilla’s or Frank’s.


	3. Honeydew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Stop trying to cheer me up!"

“Hey Gerard,” Frank says, poking him in the side, for the umpteenth time. “Hey. Hey Gerard.”

“Frank, would you fucking stop that?”

“Knock knock,” Frank says.

“Frank, I’m not going to play along.”

“Gerard, knock knock,” Frank repeats.

“Seriously? Shut up.”

“Knock knock,” Frank replies.

“Stop trying to cheer me up!”

“Knock knock.”

“You’re not going to stop until I say it, are you?”

“Knock knock.”

Gerard sighs, long and hard, just to express to Frank how much he hates him right now. And usually for that matter. “Who’s there?”

“Honeydew,” Frank replies, and Gerard shakes his head at him. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments so Frank goes back to poking him in the side, which kind of tickles and it’s really infringing on this whole moody thing he’s got going on right now.

“Honeydew who?”

“Honeydew you know you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever met?” Frank says, and he gives Gerard this big shit eating grin which makes Gerard want to knock a couple of his teeth out, but it’s also super irresistible because it’s Frank and he knows what he does to Gerard, so he’s being entirely unfair right now.

“I hate you, you know,” Gerard says, but Frank’s grin just gets bigger and he attacks him in a hug, which Gerard wants too much to stop. Frank is like a warm, incredibly energetic puppy. He’s just overflowing with affection which he wants to dish out to everybody, but mostly Gerard, and he’s got an endless supply, which you would think might get exhausting, but it’s part of the reason that Gerard loves him so much.

This little shit is going to be the end of him, he’s sure of it.


	4. Skeletons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "frank, have you seen my eyeliner?"

Frank’s got a few skeletons in his closet, as everyone does. None that are particularly scandalous but he’s not in the habit of parading them about. One such skeleton consists of the tale where he may or may not have run into his neighbor’s mailbox, and decided the best way to avoid consequence was to just steal the whole thing. To this day, he still has a mailbox hidden in the closet under the basement stairs. So, strictly speaking, he actually has a mailbox in his closet rather than a skeleton.

Occasionally, Frank will worry that these skeletons might rear their heads up and come back to haunt me, and every now and again, he has a just reason to feel that way.

While Frank is unceremoniously singing along to a song he doesn’t know the words to you know, as one does, when a situation presents itself that he would really rather not find himself in.

“Frank, have you seen my eyeliner?” Gerard’s voice comes ringing out from somewhere else in the house.

Now the problem is, Gerard hasn’t worn eyeliner in at least four months, so Frank assumed that there would be no repercussions if it happened to go missing. Life doesn’t always go according to plan.

He freezes however, when he hears the sound of Gerard’s voice, and he hopes, no, he prays to whatever god from whatever denomination may be listening, that Gerard does not check his sink drawer.

“Oh, wait a minute,” Gerard’s voice can be heard saying, and that is when Frank’s blood runs cold. There’s several long, painful, palpable even, seconds, which feel almost like hours as Frank waits with a barely beating heart.

Then, Gerard appears in the doorway, holding his eyeliner, with this inquisitive look on his face.

“Frank,” Gerard starts, with a tone that Frank can see straight through, and he knows that he’s been caught before Gerard even continues, “why is there red lipstick in your drawer?”

“I can explain,” Frank says, hastily, looking nervous, and Gerard cocks a foot out, with his arms crossed, waiting for the explanation.

Frank takes a deep breath and says, “so, have you ever heard of Rocky Horror?”


	5. What Now/Who Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?

“This reminds me of that time that I fainted when I met Hillary Duff,” Gerard says.

“Excuse me?” Frank says, eyes widening as he turns to look over at Gerard with nothing but pure shock on his face.

“Shit,” Gerard says, with this look in his eyes like he just accidentally ran over a pedestrian or pushed someone into a shark enclosure, both things that Gerard could conceivably do on accident given that he is the world’s biggest klutz.

“You did what now when meeting who now?” Frank clarifies.

“Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?”

“We absolutely cannot!” Frank says, looking excited now, and he grabs a hold of Gerard’s hand and starts tugging on it, hoping that if he pulls on it enough he’ll get a story out of Gerard, like when you pull on the chain to a window, and a result immediately follows.

“Nope, I don’t think so,” Gerard says, positively pink from his cheeks to his ears.

“I will get an answer out of you if I have to strap you to a chair.”

“That seems a little kinky,” Gerard says, making a face, but he’s not exactly going to say no to that eventuality.

“I swear to god…”

“You’re not going to get it out of me,” Gerard shakes his head, adamant that that story will remain a secret that only he, and technically Mikey, and his mother and a large portion of his high school knows, because Mikey is a piece of shit and decided it would be funny to tell everyone about it, but anyway, it’s a secret he plans to take to his and all fifty of his classmates’ graves.

“Oh baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” Frank says, with a twinkle in his eye, and Gerard’s sure he’s not going to like what’s to follow.


	6. Dynamic Duet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Please? I just... I need you."

“For the last time, the answer is no,” Frank says.

“Frank!” Gerard says, whining. When Gerard wants something, it’s usually near impossible to say no to him. He’s got one of those faces. It’s not just Frank who feels that way, Gerard can convince anyone of anything. Gerard could sell sand to a camel. It’s his eyelashes, and what’s worse is that Gerard knows it’s his eyelashes. He’s a lot smarter than he looks.

This time, however, Gerard has asked too much. Frank’s not going to budge on this one. Or at least he’s going to try his hardest not to.

“Frank!” Gerard whines again when Frank just shakes his head.

“It’s not going to happen!” Frank says.

“Please,” Gerard says, and now not only his eyelashes are batting, but his bottom lip is quivering too, and that’s just fucking cheating if you ask Frank, it’s just not fair.

“Please? I just… I need you,” Gerard says, “I can’t do it by myself.”

“Gerard,” Frank says, with a groan and also something like defeat in his voice.

And really, that’s the story of how Frank found himself at a karaoke bar, doing a duet of Allstar by Smash Mouth with Gerard.


	7. Drama Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Are you flirting with me?”

As the years have gone by, Frank puts an increasingly unreasonable amount of time into his outfits. It’s something you would think would decrease as time goes by, that he’d get lazy when it comes to fashion, but no, Frank only ripens with age.

He spends about half an hour getting ready for dinner, and fuck it if he cares how long it takes. Everything needs to be on point. His hair, his clothes, his makeup, because fuck it, he doesn’t care if they are going to an Olive Garden, his eyeliner needs to be sharp enough to kill a man.

“Frank, if you don’t hurry your ass up, I’m literally going to leave without you,” Gerard calls up the stairs, and Frank just rolls his eyes. Gerard doesn’t appreciate his genius. He’ll wait however long Frank damn well pleases, and they both know that. Gerard wouldn’t leave without him if there were a zombie apocalypse.

Another five minutes or so, after he tries on four different sweatshirts before ultimately deciding to go with the one that he’d started with, he makes his way down the stairs. He likes to have a prom moment every now and again, come down the stairs like a girl about to be taken to prom. He’s a drama queen at heart.

“Took you long enough,” Gerard groans, without even looking up at the stairs, because he instead decided to spend his time staring down at his watch. Frank huffs, because he is far more important than his watch. He stops mid-stairs, and just crosses his arms waiting for Gerard to look up.

“Um, excuse you?” Frank says when Gerard doesn’t look up.

“What?” Gerard groans, finally looking up, with an expression of boredom on his face, which changes very suddenly when he lays eyes on Frank. He goes from annoyed and bored to suddenly very excited, as he tries to suppress a smile.

“Well?” Frank asks.

“You look good, Frankie,” Gerard says, and Frank smiles, making his way down the rest of the stairs.

“Thanks,” Frank says.

“You look so fucking good,” Gerard says, wrapping his arms around Frank from behind, and kissing the side of his neck.

“Gerard, are you flirting with me?” Frank asks, eyebrow raised, not that Gerard can see it from this angle.

“Frank, we’ve been married for five years.”


	8. I'm Sorry About This One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Where the fuck did that clown come from?

“Gerard, I look like an idiot,” Frank says, groaning, as Gerard drags him through the small apartment which is occupied by far too many people. If he wanted to kick up a fuss he could probably call the cops, but Frank isn’t that much of a party pooper. A party pooper he may be, but he’s not that bad.

“Frank, I think you look cute,” Gerard replies, turning to look at Frank who, he had managed to convince to put on a dinosaur onesie for Mikey’s Halloween party. Gerard went classic, and put on the skeleton onesie that Frank had asked him to burn years ago.

“I don’t, I look like a toddler,” Frank says, “I’m already short, Gerard. And I get mistaken for sixteen every other week. People are going to start calling me kiddo!”

“That’s rough, kiddo,” Gerard says, and he pulls on Frank’s arm when he spots the snack table shoved into the corner next to Mikey’s DVD shelf.

“I don’t want to be here!” Frank says, “it’s my birthday! I wanted to, like, stay at home and do very R rated things, not dress up like a fucking Disney junior character!”

“Frank, we can do that later, the night is young!” Gerard says.

Frank makes a long, exasperated sound, and then goes, “But, uh, bu-”

“Ba ba, I’m loving it,” a voice says, from almost directly behind his ear, and Frank turns to see a Ronald McDonald standing right behind him, who starts walking away before Frank can even say anything.

“Okay, where the fuck did that clown come from?” Frank asks, and Gerard just shrugs.


	9. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sorry I kissed you and ran away right after.

Gerard’s just minding his own business, doing his thing, in line to order his third coffee of the day, because he got three hours of sleep last night and he’s literally going to die without the caffeine. He’s looking up at the board above him trying to pretend that he doesn’t come here every day and already know what he wants. They’re playing a song by the Kinks, but for the life of him Gerard cannot remember the title. He’s tempted to get out his phone and Shazam it when something distracts him.

A guy, whom Gerard has never seen before, grabs him by the arm, and he says “Oh my god, Jason, is that you?”

Gerard is about to say “no, no I am not Jason” when the guy, whom Gerard, it should be reiterated, has never seen before in his entire life, just fucking kisses him. Right there, on the mouth, like it’s no big deal. Gerard just stands there, and blinks through the kiss, because he’s not sure what else to do, and then it’s over, almost as quick as it happened which is to say, like a flash of lightning, or a speeding bullet.

Then, the guy turns around, as if he’s looking for someone. There’s this huge sound of relief from him and then he’s just fucking walking away? And Gerard’s just left standing there, feeling like something very weird just happened, probably because something very weird just happened.

He barely even got a look of the guy’s face. He was short, unconventionally attractive, with a lip ring, eyeliner, and that whole ‘everything I own was bought at Hot Topic’ vibe going on. The guy is gone though, by the time Gerard has a chance to question him about it, and he looks around, trying to figure out what in the world just fucking happened.

Gerard doesn’t exactly brush the ordeal off, he definitely wouldn’t say that, but the barista says “I can help whoever’s next” in that tone of voice like she’s said it once or twice already. Gerard is forced to walk forward and pretend for a moment like everything is okay.

About five minutes later, as Gerard is walking away from the coffee stall, latte with five shots of espresso in hand, he sees the guy who’d kissed him earlier walking up to him. Gerard stops dead in his tracks, unsure of what to do, say, or even think about this man, as he makes a beeline towards Gerard. Hopefully, he doesn’t call Gerard Jason again.

“Oh, my god dude,” the man says, “I am like so unbelievably sorry for earlier. I’m sorry I kissed you and ran away right after.”

“What the fuck was that about?” Gerard asks, not angrily so much as just in utter disbelief.

“This guy,” the man says, “was like, hitting on me? Right? Really fucking creepy one, too, like the kind of guy who I’m sure could make a body disappear with no trouble. And he just really wigged me the fuck out, so, well, you know the rest.”

“Okay?” Gerard asks, still completely frazzled.

“I can’t say sorry enough, though, dude,” he says, “I just, well, I saw you’re shirt and I figured, ‘well, this guy at least probably won’t drug and kill me in an alleyway.’”

Gerard, confused, looks down at his shirt, and then sees that he’s wearing his ‘Legalize Gay’ shirt which he supposes does make a little more sense.

“I’m Frank, by the way,” the man says, “and if you have to, I suppose you can feel free to punch me, but I’d really rather you didn’t punch me in the face.”

Gerard frowns, contemplates for a moment and then shrugs, “I’m Gerard.”

“So, you’re not going to punch me?” Frank asks, hopefully.

“I’ll let you off the hook,” Gerard decides, because he supposes that he kind of understands. He’s been hit on by creepy dudes before, he understands how creepy it can be. Anything to get out of a situation like that is a relief, no matter how uncomfortable and awkward it might be.

“Okay,” Frank says, nodding, looking relieved. “Well, in that case, nice to meet you.” Frank holds out a hand for him to shake.

Gerard smiles a little bit, and takes his hand “nice to meet you too.”


	10. Meh-May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "wait whats a meme (meh-may)"

Gerard smirks when he looks into the living room. He sees that Frank has left his laptop open on the table, and he decides to take it upon himself, as the loving husband he is, to dig up some dirt on Frank’s internet history to use against him at a later date. Really, Frank should know better than to just leave his computer open, and unlocked, where anyone can use it. He might even post weird things on Frank’s facebook if he’s feeling especially mischievous.

He sits down, pulls the laptop onto his lap, and he’s met with a deep, oddly soothing shade of blue. Gerard, curious, tries to figure out what the website is, given that Frank was on it the last time he touched his computer.

Gerard’s met with the image of a puppy wearing a Halloween costume, which Gerard supposes does seem like the kind of thing that Frank would go searching for. He scrolls up a little bit to see more puppies, and then some cats, a few gifs of a RuPaul’s Drag Race, and then the image of a very sad looking frog. He keeps on going, because it seems to be an endless expanse of just stuff and he’s curious to know what else is on here. He still doesn’t even know what the fuck this website is, but he’s caught in an abyss now and he’s curious to move onward.

Gerard’s eyebrows raise when he sees what he had been hoping to find along, but that doesn’t stop him from being caught off guard.

He’s found porn. Really, he wouldn’t have gone digging through Frank’s computer if he hadn’t expected to find porn somewhere, because what’s the point if you’re not on a porn hunt, but he still laughs when he finds it.

It’s at that time that Frank comes back into the room, and catches Gerard spying on his things.

“Gerard!” Frank yells, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“Just, looking at your computer,” Gerard says casually, as Frank, looking scandalized, rips the computer out of Gerard’s hand, and then closes it as quickly as he can when he sees what Gerard was looking at.

“That is not fucking okay!” Frank says, looking angry, or embarrassed, or possibly both.

“I was just trying to make something to make fun of you!” Gerard says, as if it’s a defense, but obviously Frank just gets an even more annoyed expression on his face.

“I fucking hate you,” Frank says, rolling his eyes, and making a point to get Gerard back somehow.

Frank is about to walk out of the room and begin the cold shoulder that he’s going to be giving Gerard for a few hours when Gerard’s voice stops him.

Gerard asks, “wait, what’s a meme?”

Frank huffs, and then laughs, “fuck off, old man.”


	11. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You remind me of the night sky. Why?"

“What’s that one called?” Gerard asks, pointing to a collection of stars above him, one of the only few that he actually does know the name of.

“Um, I don’t know,” she responds.

“No? Well, what do you think it looks like?” Gerard questions.

“Kinda like… I don’t know, like a spoon?” she says.

“A spoon,” Gerard repeats, smiling. “You know, you’re awfully close.”

“What is it?”

Gerard smiles, and he looks over at his daughter, tiny, so small that he worries she’ll get caught up in an elevator and be sucked in.

Gerard never knew what it was like to love someone with all his heart. He thought he did, he was sure he knew. When he met Frank he was sure that he knew what true unapologetic love was. And at that point in his life, it was the closest that he had ever come to knowing it. Frank had been the most he’d ever loved anyone.

Until she came along. Then he understood that there was step past that. There was something so much stronger than his love for Frank, which is infinite. But the way he feels about this little girl, it’s more. It’s more than infinity. It’s more than the universe could ever fathom. He doesn’t know how he survived so long without understanding.

“It’s called the big dipper,” Gerard says, smiling. He takes his arm and pulls her closer to him, holds his little girl so tight to him as to never let her go. She giggles and it warms Gerard’s heart like a fireplace heats the dark and damp woods.

Gerard just lays there for a few minutes in silence, body comfortable in the swathe of the grass around him, and he can tell she’s falling asleep, engaged in the comfort of the quiet, blissful night around them.

“You remind me of the night sky. Why?” Gerard says softly, testing the waters to see if she’s awake. “Do you know?”

“No,” she shakes her head.

“Because your father is a star,” Gerard says, “the biggest star in my life. But you? You’re the entire sky. The entire sky full of millions of stars.”

A moment later, Gerard hears a soft rustling sound, and he lifts his head a fraction of an inch to see Frank walking over, porch light left on so he can see his footfalls in the yard. Gerard smiles widely when he sees him, smile getting wider when Frank makes himself a spot on the other side of their daughter.

“My two favorite people in the world,” Frank says, turning his head to look at Gerard, who’s a mere inches away, given that their daughter is so small and only takes up a little bit of space.

Frank leans over in the small space between them to kiss Gerard softly, and then he kisses the top of her head, and sets his own eyes on the night sky above them. Gerard smiles irrepressibly to himself, wondering how it is that he could’ve gotten so lucky.


	12. Anonymous Sender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "i think the flower crown suits you"

“Frank!” Gerard calls up the stairs, with something like annoyance in his voice, probably because Frank hasn’t actually come down stairs once today, and the guy has been awake for nearly eight hours now. He gets like this when he doesn’t have work, it can get ridiculous sometimes. Saturdays are a nightmare if Gerard wants to do something, because he practically needs to set things on fire to get Frank to stand up. 

“What?” his voice calls back down.

“You’ve got mail!” Gerard says.

“Is it a bill?” Frank asks.

“No, it’s a package.”

There’s a moment of pause, where Frank doesn’t say anything, and then Gerard hears footsteps, but only because the creaky floor above him is in disrepair. Then Frank appears on the landing above Gerard, with a face that Gerard can’t quite pinpoint the emotions behind.

“A package?” Frank asks, looking like he doesn’t believe Gerard, but Gerard lifts the yellow parcel to show it to him. 

“But I didn’t order anything?” Frank says.

“Well, I don’t know what it is, it’s got [i]your[/i] name on it.”

Frank frowns, and then he walks down the stairs, and Gerard sighs, because it just took a mysterious yellow parcel to get him down the stairs. Not that there’s really anything he needed from Frank down here, he just thinks it’s a little ridiculous to spend the whole day in bed. 

Frank accepts it from him, as Gerard returns to the kitchen to put the rest of the stack of mail away. 

He doesn’t recognize the return address, but he’s fairly sure there’s not going to be a bomb in there, so he opens the package with curiosity to find the last thing on earth that he ever expected to have found in there. 

“I…” Frank says, making a face and just looking utterly baffled. 

“What is it?” Gerard asks, and Frank walks into the kitchen to show Gerard the perplexing contents of the parcel.

“Is that…?” Gerard makes a somewhat excited face, “What I think it is?”

“I don’t know what else it could be,” Frank replies.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Gerard questions. “Put it on!”

Frank sighs, but shrugs. He throws the empty envelope onto the counter and then fixes his hair before putting it on.

Gerard grins widely, and he wants to shake the hand of whoever thought to send Frank that, because this just made his day, possibly his week. He doesn’t know why but he’s become oddly attracted to Frank, more so than usual, once it’s on. He can’t quite explain why. He kind of wants Frank to take his clothes off now. That’s not exactly an unusual thing for Gerard to think to himself, but this are definitely new circumstances. 

“So?” Frank asks, questioningly. 

"I think the flower crown suits you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, this one could also be titled "the story of my icon."


	13. Names on A Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: barista au.

Frank is daydreaming, he’s always daydreaming. Surrounded by the smell of roasting coffee and the quiet hustle and bustle of the city outside which leaks in from the door, it’s prime atmosphere to get lost in another world. 

He’s not exactly a bad worker, because he’s a very mechanical person when he’s on the clock. His body is aware of how to take an order, how to make it, but his mind isn’t on this plain of existence and it never has been.

He mans the register, hearing Ray complain about something behind him as he pours heaps of caramel syrup into the blender. 

“Kaitlin,” the girl says when he asks her for her name. Sometimes he finds himself in the middle of doing things without remembering he’s started them. Frank considers this name in his head and stews over any of a thousand different names to spell it on her cup. Katelyn. Kaitelin. Kaytelin. Kaitlyn. Frank settles for “Ka” and then makes a scribbling shape so that it’s not spelled any one way or another.

Another one walks in. This one’s name is Bryan. Or maybe it’s Ryan. Consonants are always getting lost. He scribbles something that resembles neither names. He could ask him to repeat the name, but he doesn’t really care that much. What’s the worst that’ll happen. They’ll post a picture of their misspelled name on Instagram with a dramatic face and a few people will laugh while other people will see the picture and think “damn, and I thought his name was Toby.”

Another face walks in, who surely has another name that belongs to him.

“Gerard.”

An old mans name, Frank thinks to himself. He enters the guys drink into the computer, before grabbing the cup and trying to remember the name he’d given. Gerald? Jared? It had that G sound in any case. Frank writes simple “G” followed by his normal scribble and hopes this is close enough.

More names walk in, it’s the morning rush after all, so everyone is getting their coffees before work One guy rushes in, clearly late for work, so he should be ordering coffee in the first place. Frank doesn’t pay any of these people any mind. Adam. Delaney. Wallace. Sam. Something that sounds like Tron but that’s definitely not his name, unless his parents were a big fan of 80′s sci-fi.

It’s a regular day at work. Tedious, boring, and much the same as it always will be.

***

Today, Frank is contemplating quitting and joining a band. This is his usual daydream. He’d be pretty great at it, he’s sure. They’d be some sort of hard metal band and he’d be the best goddamn guitarist to grace this side of New Jersey and at least a month. But someone else would replace him after that month and he’s still be good but he’d be second best.

“Gerard,” says the man who’s face that name belongs to. Frank recognizes the peculiarity of the name and remembers writing it on a cup just yesterday. It’s no “Kyle” or “Chris” or “Dan” or John,” all of which he hears thirty times a day at least. “Gerard” isn’t a common one, and the boy is a lot younger than someone you’d expect to be called Gerard. He actually makes a point to look at the face and notes it’s probably the same one. Most customers are featureless in his eyes. The guy had had hair probably. And he thinks he remembers a nose. Maybe a couple of eyes. Yeah, this could be the same dude.

He scribbles the name on the cup, and he thinks he might actually have gotten it right this time. But he doesn’t notice or care that much.

***

“Gerard,” the man says, and Frank’s memory pulls up something. The same name that had ordered coffee yesterday, and the day before it. The features, they are definitely the same. He actually got a better look yesterday, so now he remembers the face. And it’s the same order as well, so it must be the same guy. Most people tend to look alike, but this guys face, name and order are distinct only because they remain the same.

Brown eyes, triangular eyebrows, pale with black hair. This is the face who belongs to the name “Gerard.”

***

Frank is taking the order of his fifth “Sarah” today when he sees a familiar face waiting behind her. Sarah is scribbled on her cup, and then the man walks forward. He gazes at the menu like he’s going to order something different, which he does not, before he orders.

Vanilla Latte. Simple. Not something that’s hard to make like the iced frappuccinos that a majority of high school age girls order.

“For Gerard?” Frank offers instead of asking for the mans name. Gerard, as Frank is want to call him given that it is his name, blushes. Frank smiles, because he got it right. Usually it takes him several weeks to memorize the names of his regulars, but it’s the ones with names like Gerard’s. Not necessarily weird names, but atypical ones. Sawyer, who orders a caramel macchiato. Candace, who just orders a plain coffee and pours the sugar in herself so she knows it’ll be right.

***

It takes about a week but Frank starts to recognize Gerard the minute he comes into the store, and has his order all ready to go before he gets to the register.

“Hey, Gerard,” Frank says, before giving him his total.

Gerard is bashful, and normally doesn’t say much, but he smiles at Frank whenever he gets his order. He even gives Frank that friendly head nod when he leaves in response to Frank waving him goodbye.

***

Three weeks pass before Gerard actually makes anything resembling conversation towards Frank. 

“Frank, right?” Gerard asks, reading Frank’s name tag. Frank is required to wear a name tag, however, whenever a customer uses his name directly, it gives him the heebie jeebies, because it’s gross being called by your own name by a stranger while you’re at work. But when Gerard uses his name, it doesn’t feel that weird, because he’s one of Frank’s regulars. Gerard isn’t exactly a stranger, but he’s also not a friend either. He’s a friendly almost stranger. So Frank doesn’t mind having his name used by him.

“Yep,” Frank confirms for him.

***

Eventually, seeing Gerard in his store is expected. He gets coffee about four times a week, sometimes five. Occasionally he’ll walk in with a big folder in his hand, which Frank longs to know the contents of, because he doesn’t know anything about his customers aside from their names and coffee orders.

On one particular day, Frank decides the mystery has gone on long enough, “what do you actually do, Gerard? I see you so often but don’t know anything about you.”

“I’m, uh, an artist,” Gerard says, awkwardly, and he rubs at his neck in the way that he often does when Frank talks to him. He’s an anxious guy, who doesn’t seem to really relate to people very well, but he’s a nice dude in any case.

“Whoa, what kind?” Frank asks, suddenly interested. There’s a line of people behind Gerard, waiting to place their orders, but Frank ignores them. Sometimes he just enjoys talking to his customers, especially Gerard, who he would say is easily his cutest.

Gerard’s got those big brown eyes which call attention to his dark hair. He’s one of those simply dressed but fairly fashionable types, with longer hair that could be washed more frequently than it is, but it’s what Frank’s come to expect of him, so he wouldn’t change it.

“Cartoons,” Gerard says, “I, uh, I do some, like, background work for cartoon.”

“Cool,” Frank says, and he actually means it, it’s not just the canned small talk he makes in order to get better tips.

Gerard smiles at him, before he walks on, so as to let the next person place the order, because he doesn’t want to hold up the line, even if Frank wants him to.

***

Frank’s conversations with Gerard become increasingly longer. For a barista to be talking to their customer for any longer than about a minute with a line forming behind them is a lot, but sometimes Frank will talk to him for upwards of three or four. He likes talking to Gerard. It’s as simple as that. He’s cute, he’s sweet, and he’s interesting.

Frank learns that Gerard has a brother, that he lives only a few minutes away. He learns Gerard’s a coffee addict, though he wouldn’t have needed to be told that. 

Eventually, Frank decides, the three to four minute conversations he has with Gerard simply aren’t enough for him anymore. Most of Frank’s friends are coworkers, Ray, or Pete. Frank needs to branch out a little more.

On one particular day, about four months after Gerard first stepped into his store, Frank decides he’s had enough of the blurbs of information the two of them share.

“Hey, Gerard,” Frank says, when his favorite customer walks in. Gerard looks especially pretty today, he’s got that shadow on his chin indicating that he didn’t shave this morning, and his hair frames his face cleanly. He’s got his usual black jeans, paired with a simple T-shirt and one of his many black coats over it. Gerard seems only to own black coats. Leather jackets, jean jackets, moto jackets, trench coats, all of which are black.

The two of them share friendly conversation, Gerard telling Frank about a band he’s never heard of, which is impressive since Frank prides himself as having an encyclopedia sized knowledge of music.

Frank writes Gerard’s name on his cup as usual, but today, instead of just that, he also writes his phone number. 

Gerard walks away after a few minutes to let the next customer order, and that’s usually the end of their conversation until the next time Frank sees him. Frank is used to it, and he doesn’t mind it. Frank has a job to do, and so does Gerard, even if he would like to talk to Gerard for the entirety of his shift.

Today, however, Gerard catches Frank’s attention after a customer places their order and before the next one steps up to the register.

“Is this yours?” Gerard asks, pointing to the phone number, and Frank nods nervously. This is where his dream is either made or breaks. He might even lose his favorite customer if he misread the signs.

Gerard bites his lip, but smiles, and Frank feels relief wash over him at the look of it. It’s one of Gerard’s normally bashful smiles whenever Frank compliments him or pays any type of attention to him really.

“I’ll see ya,” Gerard says, smiling at him before he walks towards the door and out into the city outside.


	14. Replaced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: gerard adopts a cat and then frank comes home and is like wtf?

“Gerard?” Frank calls his name, and he doesn’t hear a response back which is out of the ordinary, because his shoes have been kicked off by the front door which means he’s definitely home unless he decided to run around outside barefoot, which would be abnormal for him considering he’s a fucking baby when it gets cold outside.

Frank looks around the living room, spots several dogs, but no Gerard. He makes his way upstairs, assuming he might have just taken a nap, which does seem like something Gerard would do, though usually he’ll wait until Frank gets home before he naps.

The bedroom door is opened a crack, and Frank pushes it open, where he finds his husband, lying down in bed with an unfamiliar black and white fuzzball on top of him.

Both Gerard’s head and the fuzzballs head turn at the sound of the door opening to peer at Frank. Frank registers after a few seconds of blinking his eyes several times before he realizes that the face of this fuzzball is different from the other fuzzballs in this house. This face has whiskers, has pointier ears, is an entirely different form than what Frank is used to.

“Frank!” Gerard says, in an excited yet quite voice. “Frank, this is Meowrrissey, and I love him more than I love you.”


	15. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: the proposal (sandra bullock movie) ft. frerard

The fact of the matter was that Frank was quite possibly the worst boss imaginable. He was a tyrant among the workplace, and the mutterings of “witch” followed behind his every step. Among the leading instigators of this hateful tsunami was Gerard, the assistant of the very monster whose earned the mantle to be called as such. 

It’s clear to him that Frank sees him as nothing more than a very conveniently located servant, and not just an assistant. Gerard is expected not only to fetch coffees and run errands like he’s a mule to be ordered around but to be treated like dirt on the bottom of his shoe as well. To say he’s sick of being less than human would be an understatement.

Every single day, he daydreams about rage quitting his job and storming out, which is actually not an uncommon thing to behold in this office – it’s happened twice in the last six months – but Frank is a stepping stone on his way to the top. Frank Iero’s name is quite possibly the biggest one in the comic book publishing industry, and for Gerard to quite a job as good as this one would be a suicidal action for his career. 

So, instead, he just puts up with it. Puts up with the never-ending torment of seeing Frank’s dumb fucking face every morning.

***

Frank told him to interrupt the meeting with something aggrandized enough to pull him out of there, because Mr. Iero hates meeting with his bosses, probably because, as the senior editor, he considers himself to be all the boss he needs. Gerard is usually called upon to to interrupt these meetings for something or other, so he has a dedicated notebook filled with possible excuses. Surely, the higher ups have noticed this, but they haven’t said anything about it, and besides, it’s not Gerard’s fault that he does what he’s told. If he didn’t do what he was told to do, he wouldn’t have had this job for the past three years. The past three, grueling, overworked, and stupid years. 

Gerard rattles his hand against the conference room door, and pokes his head into it before awaiting a reply. This is a “pressing matter” after all, he mustn’t sit on his ass and wait until the meetings over when such a huge and important development has happened. 

“Mr. Iero, there’s a call for you on line 1, it sounds quite urgent, I think it’s something about the latest pages of-”

“Ah, yes, and here he is now,” Frank says, interrupting him, and then gesturing for Gerard to come over into the conference room. Gerard is normally never allowed in, he’s only ever allowed to stick his head in, and then leave. But Frank is giving him this evil eye that only Gerard is able to see which makes him think this must be over something important. 

“Yes…” Gerard says, “here I am?”

“So, you see, gentleman,” Frank says, addressing the only two men in the room, who Gerard knows to be the big honchos in this building, though few words have ever been exchanged between him and either of them. “I do understand this situation, and it’s, it’s unfortunate, but there is something I should have told you, and probably should have said a long time ago, but… I see now that this is when it’s most important.”

Frank inches nearer to Gerard who doesn’t know what the fuck is going on and he doesn’t know if he likes the tone in Frank’s voice, because Frank, of all people, Frank, has some amount of nerves and wariness in his voice, which for someone like him means trouble. 

Gerard stands still as a plank of wood while Frank just sort of pats him on the shoulder in a way he’s never even considered the man is capable of. It’s almost like it’s meant to be gentle or comforting but coming from his boss, and the asshole that his boss happens to be, it seems like it might actually be an alien bodysnatcher who does it. 

“We’re, uh, we’re getting married,” Frank says, and Gerard eyes just about pop out of his skull at it. If he had a drink, he’d spit it out in the most miraculous spit take the world has ever seen, but instead he just stands there, mouth open like a goldfish, and he says nothing. He does nothing.

In what world do those words make sense in a context like this? In what world? 

“Who- who is getting married?” Gerard says, and he’s sure he must look as pale as he feels when he says the words. 

“We are, you and I,” Frank says, and he blinks in Gerard’s direction as if this is meant to be some sort of explanation which it is not.

“Isn’t he your assistant?” one of the higher ups says, the one with the mustache who definitely went through a messy divorce at some point recently because he just has that look to him.

“Uh, executive assistant,” Frank says, but he nods, not denying it. “What can I say? I, uh, I know it’s not really, this is… well it’s a little unprofessional, and I’m sorry for that, it’s, well, it’s why we’ve kept this a secret for so long. The truth is, we’re just, we just, are two people who never should’ve fallen in love, but these things happen, of course, who among us hasn’t fallen for a secretary?” He chuckles nervously, which makes Gerard uncomfortable. 

Is this really just a joke? Why on earth would it be played on him. Frank doesn’t think he’s human, so why would he plan some ridiculous practical joke like this with him as the subject? But maybe this is something he is supposed to play along with so that he doesn’t get fired so he stays silent, hoping all will make sense soon. 

“I know it shouldn’t have happened. But all those long nights with deadlines, and god, all those comic conventions, well, it was bound to happen eventually, huh?” Frank says, voice not displaying any hint as to what any of this is about, so Gerard just sort of nods his head in agreement. Maybe if he just goes along with it, he’ll get a promotion out of it. He’s been here for too long to just give it up now, even over something as weird and out of character as this. 

“So is this, I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but is it okay?” Frank says, “Are we good, I mean, I can’t, I can’t apologize enough, but really, my love is… it’s just, it is too strong and I can’t, uh, I couldn’t stop loving him if I tried.”

“Frank,” the white haired one who still has his wedding ring on despite the fact that he’s been banging his own secretary for about half of the duration of his marriage. “It’s alright. Just make it official, alright?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Frank says, nodding vigorously, and Gerard does know this man well enough to know that something is going correctly, so he nods along with Frank, awkward fake smile on his face. “We will, we’ll head down to the immigration office right away then. Uh, don’t worry. It’ll, it’ll all work out.”

Immigration office? Oh lord. Oh fuck. Fucking hell. What has his boss dragged him into?


	16. Frank's Franks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: what if Frank was a hot dog vender in San Francisco and his hot dogs were called "Frank's Franks" and he hated it but then Gerard bought one of Frank's franks and now Frank is super happy

“Would you like a-“ He sighs long and hard. It takes all of his energy to muster up the second half of his sentence, “would you like a Frank’s frank, sir?”

“Not today, son,” the man replies, which is polite enough he supposes, but Frank has a hatred running through him. The more he says the words aloud the more he hates every decision he’s made that has brought him to this moment and place in time.

He repeats the line to just about everyone who walks by.

“Would you like a Frank’s frank, sir?”

“Would you like a Frank’s frank, ma’am?”

“Would you like a Frank’s frank, kids?”

At one point a bachelorette party walk by and ask him if the hot dogs are the only Frank’s he’s serving.

It comes to be the end of the lunch rush so he’ll be able to roll his cart along soon, and continue this torture for another hushed hours before dinner rears around.

For the thousandth time, “Would you like a Frank’s frank, sir?”

“Uh… I…” the guy looks around, like he’s waiting for someone to tell him what to do. Frank doesn’t care, or really even see the man as a human being, he just sees him as another man who will see him wearing this stupid paper hat on his head and calling his stupid fucking hot dogs “franks.”

“Is that your name then? Frank? Frank’s franks?”

“Wouldn’t be on the sign if it wasn’t,” Frank replies.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man replies, and Frank huffs, because he needs it. He needs people to feel sorry for him. Otherwise, he’s the only one to realize what misery he’s stewing in.

“Not as sorry as me,” Frank replies, blinking the blurriness from his eyes so as to bring this man into focus. 

He’s cute, but Frank thinks most people are cute so it’s not saying much.

“I’ll get, I don’t know, like two I guess?” the man replies, and Frank, despite the misery, is at least happy for a sale. Few people want to buy anything from him. Probably because he looks like he’s attending a funeral. 

Frank grabs a few buns, throws some of the soggy hot dogs into them, and puts them into one of the shitty paper trays he has an abundance of due to his lack of sales.

“That’s gonna be $4.50, sir,” Frank says, in the usual monotonous voice he uses when selling hot dogs.

The man pulls out a twenty, and Frank makes to give him the change, but he puts a hand out, as if to tell him to stop. “Don’t bother, keep the change.”

Frank ignores this and still tries to pull out the change, but the man walks away before Frank can hand it to him.

“Wait,” Frank calls after him, but the man crosses the road before he promptly, to Frank’s surprise, throws the hot dogs straight into a trash can. “Hey! What was that for?” He doesn’t know whether to be angry or confused, so he settles on both.

“Oh, I hate hot dogs,” the guy calls back, still across the street. “I just wanted to cheer you up.”

It’s a strange encounter to say the least, but Frank soon forgets it.

***

Frank rolls his cart along the road, seeing his usual spot. He’d never deny that this job sucks, but he’s starting to get used to it. He’s never going to get used to saying “Frank’s franks” though. That’s the thing he hates the most.

“Would you like a Frank’s frank, sir?” Frank asks the question to the shoes that this person owns rather than to their face.

“Yeah, can I get two?” the man says, and Frank nods, before he prepares the hot dogs quickly, because if he does it slowly he’ll probably cry into this guys bun.

“Your total is gonna be $4.50,” Frank says, and he’s handed a twenty. Frank starts counting out the mans change, but the shoes start walking away before he even gets a ten out of his register.

“Hey, sir, your change?” Frank calls after him, only to see this man walking across the street before throwing the hot dogs into a trash can. 

“Keep it!” he calls back.

*** 

It’s not a daily thing by any means, but every now and again, the same black haired man will come to Frank’s stand, buy his two hot dogs, pay with a twenty, and then throw the hot dogs away. It’s happened about four or five times now and Frank’s tempted to cut the guy off soon. Except he really likes the extra money, so he hasn’t actually made to stop him yet.

“Two hot dogs please,” the man says, and Frank of course recognizes not only his voice but his face. He stops, hesitates, looks into the mans eyes, and curtly folds his arms over his chest.

“I don’t think so,” Frank says.

“What?” the man responds, “you won’t let me buy any?”

“No,” Frank shakes his head. “Your wasting your money.”

“It’s mine to waste.”

“Then waste it somewhere else!” Frank says. “But I can’t keep giving you hot dogs that you won’t eat.”

“Fine,” the man says, “I can waste it somewhere else.”

“Good,” Frank nods, feeling a little shitty about turning away the guy who is probably his best customer.

“How about I waste it on dinner? Tonight?”

“I don’t care sir,” Frank responds, because really, why would he care about how this guy wastes his money?

“My name is Gerard actually, sir was my father,” he replies. “And you should care because it’s your dinner I’m buying.”

“My what?”

“Dinner, Frank. But only if you want…” he says, before he blushes a little bit, and it’s the first time he’s shown anything other than solid confidence. “I’m trying to ask you out, but I don’t know how to. I just think you’re cute.”

Frank evaluates him, eyeing him up and then down, and thinking. “Well,” he shrugs, “the customer is always right.”


	17. Fell In Love With A Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: gee and frank are like 1000 year old vampires in love

**1\. gee and frank are like 1000 year old vampires in love**  


“Fuck, and you know what I thought was corrupt?” Gerard says. “The Crusades.”

“You know how they are,” Frank replies, in that tone he uses whenever he talks about humans. Humans are like gorillas. They’re pretty smart, and he would never claim that they’re not. But they are an inferior being. Maybe just by a little, but inferiority is still inferiority. 

“I miss the old days,” Gerard sighs, “back when it took like two minutes to load a gun and another minute to fire it. It’s become too easy.”

“It seems like only yesterday,” Frank nods, sighing. 

“And before that when they used to just hit each other with spears and stuff. They didn’t even know how to make guns. Now they just can’t stop killing each other. That’s our job. It’s just sad.”

“This is depressing me, change the channel,” Frank says. Gerard sighs, looking down at the remote, which he still hasn’t one hundred percent figured out how to use. He’s an old man, this newfangled technology still confuses him. 

“Uh, change channel,” he commands it, but Frank just sighs, and shakes his head. He’d have thought a 1000 years would make his husband less stupid but, sadly, time has just drilled it further into him.

Frank picks up the remote, and being the technology expert he is, proceeds to turn the volume up instead of change the channel. 

“Oh, damned you,” Frank curses. 

“Here, let me try,” Gerard says, grabbing the remote from him again, before studying it for a second and pressing a couple of numbers. He doesn’t know if he did it correctly but the screen flashes white before displaying a dramatic scene of a woman having her head chopped off by a man with an ax, as blood starts to squirt everywhere. “Oh my god, tag your food porn!” 

Frank tries to grab the remote out of Gerard’s hand, pushing several buttons in the process. The screen flickers between channels, bits of conversations bleating in and out as the two of them fight over the remote.

“Oh my god, stop, stop!” Gerard says when he recognizes the show that appears on the screen. 

“Oh fuck yeah,” Frank says, and then he jumps over the back of the couch to sit beside Gerard. The TV stops on their favorite show: The Vampire Diaries.

~*~*~*~

**2\. No prompt**

“What do you mean they legalized gay marriage? I’ve literally been married to this boy since the birth of Jesus?”

“Listen Karen, I don’t care what you think you know about Jesus, my dude officiated our wedding.”

~*~*~*~

**3\. gerard and frank the 1000 year old vampires on halloween**

“Hey Frank, I’m asking you this because I love you, but what the fuck are you wearing?”

Frank has to pull the fake rubber fangs out of his mouth in order to respond, which are slimy with his own saliva. “Dracula!” Frank replies ecstatically before putting his teeth back in and then posing with his hands out like claws. 

Gerard shakes his head, sighing. Frank always makes an idiot of himself on this stupid hallway. Like a decade ago when they showed up to a Halloween party with Frank dressed up like Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

“You look like a fucking idiot,” Gerard says.

Frank tries to frown, but he can’t because his rubber teeth get in the way, so he just makes a sad face, which is made all the more ridiculous by the fact that he’s wearing a godforsaken cape.

“I vant to suck your blood,” Frank says in a terrible accent which is especially highlighted by the fact that his words come out muddled due to the fangs. Then he makes a gross sucking sound which is actually just him trying to get the extra spit out of his mouth which is collecting around his stupid ass fake teeth.

“One of these days, Frank, I’m going to fucking stake you,” Gerard says to him.

“Bleh!” Frank says, in his best impression of humans trying to impersonate him.

“I hate you,” Gerard says, meanwhile thinking about how much he wants to fuck him, because he’s been at this for two thousand years now and sometimes, Frank reminds him of why. Now is one of those times. He loves this idiot so goddamn much. 

**4\. No prompt**

“Hey, Gerard,” Frank says, poking him in the side, “hey, hey Gerard.”

Gerard ignores him, knowing that whatever he says will be stupid. 

“Whats a vampires favorite cocktail?” Frank says, poking him in the ribs some more, even though he knows Gerard isn’t going to say anything. “A bloody mary!”

Frank laughs to himself, chuckling into Gerard’s neck, which he isn’t going to admit to enjoying, because Frank drives him up the wall.

“You’re a pain in the neck,” Gerard says, rolling his eyes, before Frank makes an excited ‘oooooohhhh’ sound, proud of his husband for beating him at his own game.


	18. Snuggleslut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: My Frerard headcanon is that frank is a fucking cuddlebug snuggleslut whenever he’s grumpy he just wants to be close to somebody (Gerard). Even in the worst circumstances; tiny bunk, van, no privacy, etc.. Even in public, he’ll lean against people (Gerard), or gently headbutt them until they let him get closer. Especially when he’s so mad he doesn’t want to talk because he doesn’t want to snap at people, he’ll just somehow end up in their arms, silent and hopeful. (Basically he’s like a puppy)

Gerard’s used to Frank being a clingy guy. He’s a fuming little madman, but fuck if he doesn’t have passion.

Frank will be going off at him about leaving a dish in the sink or about leaving his shoes in the middle of a room, and he’ll have this look of anger and frustration on his face one minute and then the next, he’ll huff and then stick his head under Gerard’s chin and hold him so tightly Gerard can’t breathe. It’s his coping mechanism, Gerard thinks. Instead of getting angry and punching people in the face, which is something he’ll do to anyone who isn’t Gerard, he’ll just get as close to Gerard as possible and try to steal his warmth.

Gerard has seen him go off on other people and then ghost them for days, pretend he can’t hear them. Sometimes Mikey will throw something on Frank’s bunk and Frank will give him the could shoulder for hours, refusing to even look at him. But whenever Gerard pisses him off, Frank will either just hug the frustration out of himself, using Gerard, or he’ll stick his head under Gerard’s neck, which is Frank’s favorite place to be in the entire world.

“Hey, Frank,” Gerard asks, deciding to actually ask him about it for once. “Why do you always hug me whenever you’re mad at me? Not like I’m complaining, but I saw you punch a guy once for eating your sandwich.”

Frank shrugs, “Whenever you piss me off it just reminds me of the fact that I love you. Like even when you piss me off, you’re still mine. So instead of snapping at you or hitting you, I like to remind myself of exactly why I like having you in my life. And holding you is the best way for me to remember why.”

Gerard hears the answer, and then feels something in his heart swell a little bit. Instinctively, Gerard grabs Frank by the waist and pulls him into him. Frank is certainly onto something. When he hugs him, Gerard remembers every reason for why he loves this little man.


	19. Black and Bleached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Imagine Gerard as a teenager living in an apartment complex with his mom and Mikey and while taking out the trash one day (his only ventures into the outside world) he sees what he assumes is a stray Calico with piercing green eyes (that somehow look hazel, humanlike, in the sun) and when he kneels to offer his scent to the cat, it starts rubbing all over him to claim him with its pheromones. He befriends the cat from that day forward, stopping to pet it whenever they cross paths, and he notices that the cat usually lingers around the door of another tenant in the complex, so he guesses that the cat is actually theirs, and that it’s just an outdoor cat, but he never seems to see the people that live in that apartment. That is, until one day when he goes to check on the cat and sees the door close after a short, young-looking man with a black faux-hawk, and the cat is nowhere to be seen.

Gerard sees the man walk into the apartment he assumes his favorite cat lives in, and this gets him to assuming that he’s finally found it’s owner. He’s always wondered what Frank’s owner looks like. They say pet owners start to look like their pets after a while, and even just seeing the back of this guys head, he thinks that might be the case. This guy has what he probably thinks is an “edgy” haircut, a black faux-hawk which is bleached almost white but slightly yellow on the sides. The black and white combo looks exactly like the cats black and white fur. He can easily see this guy as the cats owner.

The cat is nowhere to be seen, and the door shuts behind the man before Gerard can even get a look of his face.

***

Gerard doesn’t think too much about it until a few days later when he sees the cat by the bus stop outside again, which is where he normally hangs out. 

“Hey there, kitty,” Gerard says, smiling as he spots the little guy. The cat immediately recognizes him and walks over to Gerard, rubbing it’s small little face against Gerard’s ankle affectionately, which is the only place that it can reach. Gerard kneels down and strokes along the cats back, whose fur is quite long, which leads Gerard to believe he’s a couple of years old. Sometimes he worries about how much time the little guy spends outside, but he’s pretty smart and usually stays near the bus stop or occasionally out back, where the garbage is located.

Gerard plays with the cat for a little while before he spots his bus trundling along on the road in front of him. He straightens himself after giving the cat one last pat on the head.

Later that same day, as Gerard gets off the bus, he spots the same man he saw the other day, with his black and bleached hair, this time catching a little peak of his face as the both of them walk into the apartment. The cat is nowhere to be seen, so he follows the man into the apartment, as he holds the door open for Gerard to follow behind him.

The man is very pretty, with green, almost hazel eyes, just like the cats. This must be his owner, Gerard notes. He looks just like the cat. The apartment is only four floors, with no elevator, so Gerard follows the man up the stairs. He stops on the second floor while Gerard continues up, and Gerard watches him as he walks into his apartment, still no cat in sight.

***

About a week later, with no sight of the cat or the man, Gerard spots him out his window. He’s busy making himself a cup of coffee, watching the cat pace the sidewalk. Gerard pours milk into his mug, before getting an idea. 

He grabs a bowl, and the milk, and then walks down the four flights of stairs down to the ground floor, and then exits the apartment.

“Hey kitty,” Gerard says to him, before setting the bowl onto the ground and pouring a little milk into it. The cat studies him and the bowl for a second before sticking his face into it and licking at it’s contents. Gerard takes a seat on the sidewalk, watching and occasionally petting him for a couple of minutes. It doesn’t take too long before the cat makes it through the entire bowl, and Gerard smiles.

***

On Saturday night, after the sun has already set, Gerard sets out of the house. He looks around the dark night around him, looking for any passersby, but sees none. He doesn’t even look at the ground, until he feels something brush up against his leg, nuzzling at him. He looks down, to see the cat in his usual spot.

Gerard bends down to pet him for a moment before straightening himself back up. 

Once again, he looks around to make sure there’s no one in the night to spot him. When he feels safe, Gerard reaches into his pocket, pulling out something long and wooden which the cat can’t quite see in the dark.

He raises the object in his right arm and holds it towards the street. For a moment, nothing at all happens, and then, an apparition appears as if out of nowhere. 

It’s almost like it magically appeared. The cats eyes look up, and Gerard doesn’t notice how wide they are, as it looks at the tall, purple triple-decker bus that has just appeared from nowhere. 

Gerard leans down again, giving the cat another stroke before he stands up again, and walks onto the bus. His feet have only barely made contact with the stairs of the bus when it rushes off again into the night, so fast that the cat doesn’t even see it drive away.

***

It’s been several weeks since Gerard last saw the cat, and he doesn’t know where it could possibly have gone. He starts to get worried. What if the cat walked out into the road? What if he wondered off and got lost? Where could he have gone? He used to be at least a semi-regular guest of the sidewalk, and if he wasn’t there, he was often stood outside the door to that black and bleached haired man’s apartment. But now it’s as if he’s disappeared.

Gerard is too worried about the cat to linger over how weird it is to knock on a strangers door, but that’s what he does. 

It’s a Saturday at lunch time when Gerard’s fingers rattle against the second floor apartment. There’s a small sound of pattering from inside before footsteps make their way on the old creaky floorboards within. Then, the door opens, and that man is stood there. He evaluates Gerard, with a weird expression on his face as Gerard gives him a once-over, and then peaks into the apartment behind him to see if he can spot any small animals. Gerard doesn’t see the cat at first glance which is a rather disheartening thing.

“Can I help you?” the man asks. 

“Yeah uh,” Gerard starts, “So this is going to sound weird, but, I, uh, your cat, is he alright?”

“My cat?” the guy asks, looking confused or surprised.

“Yeah,” Gerard nods, “It’s just, I usually see him hanging around outside, but I haven’t seen him in several weeks and I wanted to know if he was alright.”

The man’s face signals Gerard to the fact that he’s hiding something, but he’s not sure exactly what. 

“Yeah, he’s fine,” the man says, “it’s just been getting cold, so I’ve been keeping him inside lately.” Gerard knows this is a lie because it’s spring, and it’s actually been getting warmer lately rather than colder.

“Oh,” Gerard says, not letting on that he can tell it’s a lie. He just nods. “Good, um, that’s good. He’s a really good cat, I was just worried.”

“Yeah,” the guy says, and Gerard doesn’t know why but he blushes. The two of them share an awkward goodbye before the door is closed on Gerard, and he walks away.

*** 

Gerard’s suspicions only fester in the next few days. Where did the cat go? He knows it’s stupid. The cat probably just found a different spot to hang out, or maybe he really has just been inside the guys apartment for the last few weeks. Whatever the reason, Gerard knows he really shouldn’t be worried. But that doesn’t stop him from worrying anyway.

Gerard is a complete idiot and he knows he is. It about midday when Gerard sneaks out of his own apartment and walks downstairs to the second floor apartment where the cat lives. He needs to know that the cat is alright, that the little guy is okay. 

Gerard knocks on the door and waits for a response. He hears nothing. He knocks again. There’s no movement from inside.

He looks around him, listens out for the sound of anyone, but the apartment seems entirely quit. There’s no one else about. Gerard, reaches into his pocket, pulls out his wand, and whispers under his breath, “Alohamora.” 

There’s a gentle click, and then Gerard reaches for the door, turning the knob quickly. He hurries himself into the apartment, and then shuts the door quickly. He knows he doesn’t have a lot of time to look around, as the man could be coming back at any minute. He’s technically trespassing and he doesn’t want to explain how or why he snuck into this apartment. 

Gerard sees an apartment that looks quite similar to his own family’s, though it’s slightly smaller. It’s got the same kitchen and living room, though with different furniture and arrangement. 

Gerard looks for wherever this guy keeps the cats litter box, but he doesn’t find any hint of one at all. Not in the bathroom, kitchen, living room. It’s nowhere. Come to think of it, it doesn’t even really smell like cat in here. But this must be where the cat lives, he hangs out around this door all the time, and the owner looks a surprising amount like the man who owns the apartment.

Gerard hears a strange sound coming from a room which he assumes is the guys bedroom. He puts his ear to the door to hear a whirring sound from within, but it doesn’t sound like a person, it just sounds like movement.

Hesitantly, Gerard opens the door to look for the source of the sound. What he sees is something that makes his heart drop a little bit in his chest, and he’s not sure if it’s worry or what. It’s a small object, similar to a top, but not quite. Gerard’s never owned one but he knows it to be called a Sneakoscope. And he has a suspicion that he knows why it’s going off, considering that he just snuck into this guys apartment without permission.

Gerard’s realization crosses him both very slowly and very quickly. A Sneakoscope. In this mans apartment. A cat that looks like the man who owns it. No indication that a cat even lives here. 

Gerard becomes extremely embarrassed as he walks over to the front door and lets himself out, locking the door behind him. He walks upstairs, shaking slightly from either the adrenaline of not being caught or from the knowledge he’s now sure of.

The cat hasn’t gone missing, that’s for sure. He knows exactly where that cat has been these last few weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> As you might have noticed, I marked this as ongoing which means that you can submit prompts to either my [tumblr](http://helenamayhathaway.tumblr.com) or as a comment on this. I make no guarantees that I'll write it, but if it interests me, I might, so feel free to leave multiple prompts!


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